


Scared of All This Needing

by yummysubculture



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU- Doctors, Big Russian Feels, Everything I know about hospitals I learned from House MD, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yummysubculture/pseuds/yummysubculture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geno had never liked his hands— too big and too clumsy for a surgeon.  He makes them do what he needs, a precision born of patience and practice, but he’d always seen them as an impediment.  He looked down at his hand, almost completely covering Sid’s, and smiled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scared of All This Needing

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a first responders AU that [level3puckbunny](../users/level3puckbunny/pseuds/level3puckbunny) and I have been playing around in for a while. 
> 
> The Pens are hospital staff, the Flyers are EMTs, the Bruins and the police and the Blackhawks are the fire department. Technically it's the same universe as ["Never Leave You"](http://the-closet-door.livejournal.com/5583.html), though I have since retconned Sid out of the fire department and I am too lazy to fix it.
> 
> ALSO, because level3puckbunny said I had to mention it, the working title was "Doctor Malkin will see you now". Actual title from Passion Pit's "I've Got Your Number ".

Geno was waiting by the elevator, just about to take a break— already thinking longingly of coffee— when a group of OR nurses walked past, talking in hushed tones about the bloodbath that was Dr. Crosby's morning surgery and if they couldn't get someone else to tell the next of kin next time because Crosby had the bedside manner of a respirator.  Geno must have been glaring, because when they reached the elevator, one of them— Geno thought his name might be Eric— muttered an apology and refused to meet his eyes.  Geno abandoned hope of getting his long-awaited coffee break and turned away from the elevator, heading instead up the stairs towards the roof.

The scene that greeted him when he opened the heavy roof door was exactly as he'd expected.  Sidney was standing to the side of a block of ventilation fans, leaning against the safety railing at the roof's edge.  It was slightly too cold to be outside without a real jacket and the wind whipped at the tails of both men's lab coats as Geno moved to stand beside his friend.  With anyone else, he'd go for a comforting hand on the shoulder, but for Sid, he knew better than to initiate physical contact and instead leaned down next to him, just close enough that Sid would be able to feel his body heat without any actual touching.

"I should have been able to save him."

He kept his face pointed away from Geno as he spoke. 

"They tell me it was a long shot like that's supposed to make it better.  I should have been able to save him— that's why he came to me!  I'm the best and I should have been able to..." his voice, which had been raised, died away into the wind and he slumped his shoulders, defeated.  Geno decided to risk it and put his hand at the base of Sid's neck, resting lightly.

"You not god, Sid."

"Thanks, Geno" Sid spat, starting to jerk away.  Geno pressed down more firmly, until he could feel the tension in Sid's muscles and the bump at the top of his spine.

"Let me finish talk."

Sid finally angled his head to look at Geno, annoyed enough to forget that he was trying not to let the other man see his weakness— the tear tracks drying on his cheeks, red in the late autumn cold.

"You not god.  You not robot.  God, robot, not cry when man dies.  God, robot, let men die all the time, feel nothing.  You cry for patient you might have saved because you are man.  And you are good man. Good man best thing to be, I think."

He realized he was rubbing his thumb in tiny circles on Sid's neck and that that was a level of intimacy he'd always sort of hoped for in the back of his mind, but not really meant to initiate right then.  He stroked his thumb through the tiny hairs at the nape of Sid's neck once more, deliberately slowly and tenderly.  Sid melted into the touch for just a second before stiffening and standing up, the motion knocking Geno's hand away.

"You're the good man, Geno."  He said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he walked back towards the door— not looking back, not meeting Geno's worried eyes.  "I'm just a good doctor." 

After he'd left, Geno stood alone in the cold, not sure how much time was passing as he watched the cars go by below, the wailing of the ambulances warping and distorting in the wind.  Eventually, he too turned back to the door, hands in his pockets and went back inside to grab some coffee on his way to the next meeting.

 

…

 

Geno never did get that coffee. 

On the way to his 11 o’clock, he got paged down to the ER—there’d been a shooting and two people had to be taken into surgery.  Geno ended up spending minutes that felt like hours trying to stop the bleeding and hours that felt like years repairing the damage to the man’s lungs. 

When he finally emerged from the OR, he’d barely gotten to wash his hands when he was bombarded with questions from a pair of policemen.  The shorter of the two—and short here is purely relative, as he was almost as tall as Geno himself—introduced himself as Officer Boychuk and asked him a seemingly pointless series of questions, considering Geno knew nothing about the man besides the location and severity of his wounds.  The taller, ginger officer behind him diligently noted down each of Geno’s awkward answers, blushing every time he needed Geno to repeat something because of his accent. 

By the time he’d finished repeating himself endlessly about privacy laws that the police really should already know about and sent them up to Bylsma—the hospital administrator is the one who should have to deal with all this legal nonsense, not some trauma surgeon who is really quite done with today and would like to go home, thank you—it had already gotten dark.  He headed up to his office and waded through whatever paperwork he could before starting to blink at it sleepily, the Roman alphabet getting less and less familiar.  He pushed it aside and grabbed his coat, locking up his office and starting to plan his evening.  Frozen dinner and watching TV on the couch was sounding very appealing.

He’d made it as far as the lower level elevators when he ran into Dr. Lovejoy, looking frantic.  “Oh, Malkin, thank God.  Can you please translate for me?  I have a Russian patient and she’s refusing medication and I can’t get a hold of Zlobin…”

Geno pinched the bridge of his nose and forced a smile.  “Anton visiting family in Moscow.  Should have left number for substitute translator?” 

He supposed he could probably just go and let Lovejoy and whoever was still in the office figure things out, but Lovejoy had such a lost and harried look on his face that Geno found himself agreeing to talk to the patient.  She turned out to be a woman about his grandmother’s age named Svetlana who didn’t understand why her pills were blue when they’d always been white and was convinced they weren’t hers.   Once he explained that it was a manufacturing difference between the brand name and the generic varieties of the exact same medication, she’d calmed down considerably, but every time Geno would start to make his excuses and bow out, she’d start in on some other unrelated thing, obviously lonely and glad to have another Russian to talk to. 

Eventually, Lovejoy returned and seeing Geno’s plight, took her file back, reassuring Geno, and through Geno, Svetlana that he’d gotten a number for the alternate translator and any further questions could be taken care of through him.  Lovejoy and Svetlana both thanked him profusely and he was finally on his way out the door. 

He didn’t stop walking at a brisk pace or turn around the whole way to his car, as if someone was going to jump out from behind a post in the garage with something urgent for him to do.

 

…

 

By the time he’d pulled up in front of his house, it was after 10 and his stomach was rumbling pretty consistently.  He’d calmed down a lot though, and was just starting to let himself think about that morning’s strange encounter with Sidney—the way Sid’s skin felt under his hand and how he’d leaned into it for just a second, how Geno might have seen hunger in his friend’s eyes, but might have been tricked by the cold autumn light.  He resolved not to think about any of it further that evening—he had a hot date with his cat Dixi and reruns of _Bednaya Nastia_. 

Unfortunately the universe had other plans, and Geno almost tripped over the huddled form of Sidney Crosby sitting on his doorstep.  He swore loudly in Russian and Sid began to clutch at his head.  He must have come over, then started having a migraine and been too weak to go anywhere else.

Sidney didn’t often come over unannounced, but this was hardly the first time.  He had a gorgeous condo in a community full of people like Sid who make a lot of money working at jobs that keep them from ever spending any time at home.  It was objectively a great neighborhood, but Geno found it sterile and off-putting.  Apparently so did Sidney, because he never seemed to be there, instead spending his little free time at Geno’s or with Dr. Lemieux, Sid’s med school advisor, and his family.

Geno wasn’t really up for company, but he knew how helpless Sid was once a migraine set in, so with a heavy sigh he helped Sid inside and deposited him on the couch and went into the hall to get some blankets.

“Sorry, Geno… I came to apologize about…before…” 

His voice was faint and strained and it tugged and Geno’s heart in a way that was both familiar and unsettling.  He took the spare blankets and draped them over all the curtain rods in his bedroom to block out what little ambient light seeped in from the already dark and quiet street. Setting a few pills and a cool washcloth on the bedside table, he toed off his shoes and headed back out to the living room, where Sid had curled into a ball on the couch.

“About this morning…” he started again, eyes still screwed shut, but Geno shushed him, pulling his hands away from his head and running his own fingers firmly across Sid’s scalp a few slow, careful times.  When Sid finally opened his eyes, Geno pulled him up of the couch and got him into bed, ignoring his weak protests.

“Shh.  Sid sleep.  We talk later, yeah?”  Sid glared at him blearily through slit eyes, but eventually rolled over, wrapping himself in Geno’s duvet like a grumpy burrito.  Geno smiled wearily and headed into the kitchen to microwave dinner.

When he turned on the TV at last, plate of unevenly thawed chicken in his lap, it was to find that _Bednaya Nastia_ had ended and the Russian channel was now showing some disgustingly cheesy game show that must have been new since he’d last lived in Russia, because he had no idea what the point of it was.  He settled in anyway, reaching an arm out to pet Dixi, who just gave him a long stare and, apparently deeming him too pathetic, hopped from the couch and disappeared into the hall.

 

…

 

It was almost 2am when Sidney emerged from the bedroom to find Geno half asleep on the couch, head tilted back and drooling slightly as the television played a news broadcast.  Sidney blinked sleepily in the dim light, scenes from a war zone playing across his friend’s weary face.  He picked up his shoes from under the table, trying his best to be quiet, but when he looked up Geno was looking back at him, dazed and sleepy.

“Feel better?  Is late, go back to bed.”  His voice was soft and rough with sleep, his accent heavier as if he was readjusting after dreaming in Russian.

“Yeah, I was going to… I’m gonna head home… it’s really late, and…”

“Too late for driving.  Sid should stay.”  Geno closed his eyes and slumped his head on the couch, waving absently back towards his room.  He could feel Sid sit down next to him, his weight sinking into the cushions like a heavy sigh, but he didn’t open his eyes until he felt Sid put his hand awkwardly on Geno’s knee a minute or so later. 

“Sorry, for before.  For this morning… on the roof?”  Geno made a sleepy noise of confusion and Sid continued, his voice a little high like it got sometimes when he was afraid of doing something wrong.  “Later I was taking my break in the ER nurses’ lounge…” 

Geno snorted.  Sid always seemed to be lurking around down there whenever he had a free moment.  He claimed it was because it was usually fairly quiet and had a nice TV, but all the nurses would kid Geno that it was because of it’s proximity to Geno’s office.

“I was watching some soap opera and the same kind of thing happened.  As with us, you know?  The guy was being all moody about something and the girl came and tried to cheer him up— put her hand on his neck, told him it was alright— and he totally blew her off and she ended up spending the rest of the episode crying to her sister about how she’d been rejected…”

Geno was staring at him now.

“…and I mean, not that I think you’re a girl or that you were crying or anything, but I thought maybe I’d hurt you.  You know I’d never do that on purpose.”  He sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands.  “I started over thinking everything, of course.”  He laughed nervously. 

“Of course” Geno said, still a little lost. 

“Then when my shift ended, I meant to come find you, but then I got dragged to some stupid club with Fleury from Peds and that ambulance driver with the sleazy mustache.  Then the headache started…” He trailed off.

He started to move his hand, but Geno rested his own on top, trapping it.

Geno had never liked his hands— too big and too clumsy for a surgeon.  He makes them do what he needs, a precision born of patience and practice, but he’d always seen them as an impediment.  He looked down at his hand, almost completely covering Sid’s, and smiled.

“ _Ne segodyna, solnyshko_.”

Sid blinks and Geno realized he’d spoken in Russian.  He repeated himself—without the endearment— _not tonight_.

“In morning have clear head.  I make you breakfast, we drive to work.  Am not hurt.  Nothing changes, Sid.”

Sid swallowed audibly and leaned almost imperceptibly forward.  “What if I want it to change?” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he looked surprised to have said them, eyes going wide and a slight flush rising in his cheeks, visible even in the muted light.  Geno’s heart felt full with something huge and strange, watching Sid flail in adorable embarrassment.

He leaned in to close the distance between them and Sid met him halfway, kissing him sweetly and hesitantly.  Sid pulled away and started talking quickly, too fast for Geno to catch any meaning in the breathless syllables.  He pulled Sid back toward him, large hand cradling the back of Sidney’s head, kissing him soundly as the news played on in the background.

Sid was totally awake now, straddling Geno and starting to unbutton the dress shirt Geno had never bothered to change out of as Geno blinked at him sleepily, still a little dazed.  He kissed down Geno’s chest, stopping for a moment to take a shaky breath before nuzzling Geno’s half hard cock through his pants.  He reached up to unbutton those as well, but Geno stopped him, his hand gentle on Sid’s face.

“Want to remember.  Too sleepy.  Wait, Sid.”  Everything was coming out backwards.

Sid looked concerned.  “I thought we’d…”  He dropped his gaze and fixed his t-shirt awkwardly.  Geno propped himself on one elbow, keeping his other hand on Sid’s cheek. “What, Sid?”

“I thought we’d do this a lot.  And you wouldn’t have to remember, because it’ll be always.  Well, except when you don’t want to think about it, like at a bedside visit, or a meeting with Bylsma…”

Geno barked out a short laugh.  Sid turned away huffily, but Geno stopped him.

“Yes, want for always.  But want to be awake at least for first time, yes?”  He kissed Sid slowly, maneuvering him to lie on his chest.

“So can be sure is not dream.” He whispered into Sid’s hair as his breath evened out against Geno’s neck.

 

…

 

Geno regretted sleeping on the couch the moment he awoke, his front warm and slightly damp where Sid was laying and his back a line of pain.  He made an involuntary sound of discomfort, waking Sid as it rumbled through his chest.

Sid blinked at him, owlish and dazed, looked at Geno for a long moment as if remembering the night before and suddenly broke into a grin.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Geno was vaguely aware that they didn’t have long before they needed to be back at work, even less time if they wanted to eat the breakfast Geno had promised to make.  None of that seemed very important in the face of that awkward, beautiful smile and Geno found himself grinning stupidly back before leaning up and kissing Sid until his giggles turned to gasps, bitten off moans and one tiny keening sigh that had Geno going from sleepy affection to hard enough to pound nails in a heartbeat.

He rolled over on top of Sid, ignoring the warning twinge in his back.  A thousand possibilities for hands and mouths and cocks flashed through his mind, all the things he’d wanted to do to and with Sidney flashing before his eyes in a moment of blissful indecision.

Sid made up his mind for them both, clutching at Geno and grinding their hips together, barely letting him breathe for kissing, sloppy and desperate.

“Stop, stop, pants!” Geno insisted and Sid pouted, but loosened his grip long enough to let Geno push Sid’s borrowed sweats and his own rumpled suit pants out of the way.  Without those few layers of cloth between them, the sensation of skin on skin was electric and Geno barely had a minute to wrap a hand around both their cocks before they were coming all over themselves like fumbling teenagers.

Sid pulled a face at the sticky mess on his stomach and Geno laughed, deep and wild before taking off his shirt and wiping Sid off before getting up and heading to the bathroom. 

“I shower, then you.  When you are done, I have breakfast ready.”

“Hmmm, or we could just shower together,” Sid purred, coming up behind him and fitting his shorter frame into Geno’s back, arms tight around his waist “and I can just throw together some protein shakes on our way out.”

Geno hated protein shakes, tasteless, gloopy and not nearly as healthy as people seemed to think.  Sid’s mouth slid hot and wet across the sore muscles of his back.  Protein shakes weren’t the worst idea, as long as he reminded Sid to leave out the chocolate—for a neurologist, Sid was remarkably stupid about simple things like avoiding migraine triggers.  He let Sid drag him into his own bathroom, somehow ridding them both of their clothes while never seeming to take his hands off of Geno.

In the end, they were almost too late even for Sid’s ridiculous shakes, but Geno couldn’t really bring himself to care.  His heart still felt so full, his blood rushing with the knowledge that he was standing at the edge of something bigger and more important than almost anything else he’d ever undertaken, bigger than medical school, bigger than moving the other side of the world, and certainly bigger than breakfast.

He realized Sid was talking and had asked him a question.  He couldn’t help himself, grinning stupidly and kissing Sid once more against the kitchen island before grabbing the travel mugs Sid had to ask about a second time and pouring the dubiously healthy concoction into them and finally heading out.

Geno briefly considered asking Sid to take his car as well so that they didn’t arrive at the hospital together, but decided he didn’t care.  He didn’t plan on trying all that hard to be subtle and they might as well start now.  They pulled up, parked and headed into the hospital, still playfully arguing about the taste versus nutritional value of protein shakes, but when they reached the bank of elevators where their paths would diverge, Geno stopped.

“What?”  Sid asked, confused.

“Nothing, solnyshko.  Have a good day.”  He bent and kissed the top of Sid’s head before pushing him lightly onto the elevator, grinning as the door closed on Sid’s still confused face.

Geno tuned back towards his office, passing Eric-the-nurse, who was giving him an arched eyebrow.  He couldn’t even muster up the ill will to glare.

He unlocked his office and sat down, ready to face the day.  Then he remembered that Eric worked under Fleury, the worst gossip in the entire hospital, who was always looking for something to tease Geno with.  He groaned and thunked his head on his desk.

 

It was going to be another long day.

 


End file.
